Not One for Farewells
by ThreeJays
Summary: Two weeks after 4x09, Klaus is leaving town. He's never been much for goodbyes, but this girl changes things. Klaus/Caroline Oneshot. Caroline POV. Some mild language, nothing too crazy.


DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

**A/N: So, yeah. I might just be hated for posting this. :-( I know I haven't updated Dark Stars Shine Bright in for-freaking-ever. And that's due to a lot of things including some really intense medical issues that put my life in total chaos. When the health stuff settled down, I found the show was dealing with Damon and Elena in a way that just sucked the inspiration right out of me. Not that I don't see some value in what they're doing, but it just...zapped my muse, I guess.**

**I hate that DSSB isn't finished. I feel AWFUL about it (please, don't bash - I'm mad enough at myself) but despite a LOT of effort, the inspiration is just _not_ there, and I can't bring myself to post a chapter that feels wrong. And after four versions, they all feel wrong. So, DSSB is going on hiatus. :-( *ducks***

**At any rate, I really thought about not posting this at all. It's not even my standard couple. But recent episodes leaving me with such a terrible taste in my mouth for Caroline and I desperately wanted to spend some time remembering why I love her. And of course, exploring that whole Texas-sized chemistry thing going on between her and Klaus that the show will probably never deal with.**

**This is a one-shot, strictly Klaus/Caroline. I'm considering a related one shot, but I'm not even sure anyone wants to read this. So, if you do, please review to let me know. :-)**

**CAROLINE POV - LATE NIGHT- TWO WEEKS AFTER 4x09**

He's a killer. I knew that. I know that.

He's ruthless and heartless and everything bad in this world. Klaus is _evil_.

I mean, what did I expect, right?

What did any of us expect? We push and poke at him, lie to him, try every imaginable way to kill him _and_ his family. What, he's going to suddenly-I don't know-_reform_ in the middle of all of this? Decide to take the high road? Why the hell were we so stupid?

I peel off my clothes and stand in front of my bathroom sink, wishing I could...I don't know..._process_. But it's been two weeks. And I don't think there's a way to process this.

Klaus killed twelve hybrids.

And Carol Lockwood.

He killed Tyler's _mom_. Tyler doesn't have any parents left because of Klaus.

It makes my hands ball into fists and my throat close up, and it hurts. God, it hurts. The fact that it happened. The fact that Klaus did it. The fact that...in a sick, twisted way, we had a hand in every person that died. I mean, our entire mission for the last year has been screwing with Klaus's head. We worked every angle we could to hurt this walking, talking nuclear holocaust.

God, that's not even true. We mostly worked _one_ angle.

Me.

I brush my teeth and my hair and try making a list of all the Very Good Reasons I had for waltzing around in do-me clothes and flirty smiles, cock-teasing the crap out of this horribly damaged vampire.

And you know what? My reasons pretty much suck as much as my methods.

I went on a _date_ with this guy. A date! And he was...ugh, he was completely great. I mean, I would not admit this under threat of death, especially now, but it wasn't exactly a stretch for me to pretend to enjoy that day. I was like a glittery Hitler at the pageant and Klaus was _completely_ cool with it. I kept ratcheting up my inner bitch, and he just kept smiling that million-dollar smile. The one that starts in his eyes and ends somewhere in my knees.

I'm going to hell for that day. No. No, they're going to make somewhere worse than hell for me.

I turn on the water and scrub my face hard, as if I can somehow flush the memory of the entire day, maybe of his entire person out of my head. He has to die. He deserves to die. After everything, after this? We have to kill him. And I will keep saying that until I believe it.

Or until it's over.

I turn off the faucet, remembering my conversation with Stefan. In the end the difference between Klaus and us is that he can't trust anyone. Not even the good guys.

Especially the good guys.

"You are not the one who killed thirteen people!" I tell my reflection.

She stares back at me, guilty as ever. I close my eyes, because I don't want to see my own face. And then I see his stupid, dimpled grin in my head instead. I'm pretty sure that the living incarnation of Satan should _not_ have dimples, so what the hell is up with that?

Whatever. Nobody cares if he has dimples or if his eyes go all warm and sparkly when he watches me snapping my fingers at a string quartet. He is everything bad in this world. And I have danced with him more than I've danced with my boyfriend.

Well. Ex-boyfriend.

I towel dry my face and tug on some jammies with a sigh.

I wish I could blame the breakup on Klaus, or on the tragedy of his mom's death or God, on Haley with her super-skanky neck-breaking powers. Haley would be a freaking awesome target. But I can't blame her.

Deep down under all my quippy comebacks and eye-rolls, I know the road to The End for Tyler and me started before Klaus snapped. It started when Tyler threw a scotch glass at the wall. Not exactly at me. But close enough.

At the funeral, he told me he needed time. I didn't argue. Maybe we both need time.

I flick off the bathroom light and head down the hall to my bedroom. When I step into my room, there's a red velvet box on my bed. That would already turn my blood to ice, but since Klaus is sitting on my bed holding that box, being freaked doesn't seem like a big enough reaction.

I feel more in the instant that I see him than I have felt since I turned. Rage. Hatred. Grief. Fear. Relief.

Relief?

I don't think about that one. I open my mouth and try to force something to come out of it. Words. Screaming. Fire. God, something! But an invisible hand is squeezing around my chest, closing up my throat until there is nothing but a sort of desperate gurgle.

My hands itch to attack him, but how? With that? I remember the feel of Klaus dragging me through the school. His speed, his strength-anything I'm even thinking is pointless. He isn't just powerful, the freak is _otherworldly_.

"I'm leaving," he says simply. Softly.

He turns the little red box over in his hands and looks up. I close my mouth. There isn't anything to say. He knows it all. I can see the hatred in my eyes reflected perfectly in the pain in his.

I'm totally thrown. This isn't the Klaus I need. I need the raging sociopath with an unfortunate fixation with world domination, because I totally freaking hate that guy. But this isn't him. Except that it is. God, this is so messed up I'm going to need a shrink just to figure out how to _talk_ about it.

He doesn't really face me. He sits there, looking like a seven-headed dragon wearing a kicked puppy expression. I watch his fingers slide down the sides of the red box, and I swallow down something that feels dangerously close to pity.

"What do you..." My pathetic voice trails off. I start a handful of questions this way, but finish none. It's a lot of, "Do you actually expect..." and "Who do you think..." and then, the worst one of all, the one I do manage to get all the way out.

"Why are you here?"

He answers that one. I wish he hadn't before he words are even out of his mouth.

"Because you make me wish things were different," he says.

Damn it.

Just...damn it.

I shake my head, stepping back, through I'm already against my closed door. "It isn't. You can't just-we can't."

We? There isn't a _we_. The fact that I'm using a _we_ with Klaus makes my stomach want to turn itself inside out. God, what is _wrong_ with me?

"I'm well aware that things between us will never be as they were, Caroline," he says, in that prissy accent of his. "Not that they were ever much to begin with."

I try to scoff, because I'm desperate to find a scathing retort. I want to flip my hair and come at him with everything he absolutely deserves. And it's totally not happening.

"I don't want whatever that is," I say, gesturing weakly at the red velvet box that I know came from Cartier. "I don't want you here. I hate you."

He turns it over and over in his hands, swallowing. Nodding.

But he puts it down on my end table anyway.

"Well, I'm usually not much for goodbyes," he says, looking at his knees and then his hands, and finally at me.

I cock my head, finally, _finally_ feeling a spark of the Caroline I want to throw at this asshole. "Don't worry, you'll have your chance when we finally figure out a way to kill you."

Klaus sighs, and there's something about it I don't like. It's like he's done playing this little game of ours. And maybe I'm not ready for that. Maybe I like that game. Maybe I need it.

"I came tonight knowing I should kill you," he says, and fear slides its way up my spine like a cold whisper.

"Are you going to kill me?" It's a strange echo of our first real conversation, but Klaus looks anything but sentimental. His eyes narrow, flashing with danger.

"Pretense does not become you," he says. "You know very well I won't harm you."

"Why?" I don't know why it comes out. I don't. But it does.

I go on, trying to sound bratty and pragmatic, when really I'm just shaking and confused and God, this is not me. This cannot be me feeling this way. Saying these things. "I've lied to you. I've used you. I've tried to kill you over and over again."

"You did what you had to, I suppose," he says with a shrug, finally standing up. "And so did I. Take care of yourself, Caroline."

I shake my head and just like that, he's gone. I see the curtains in my window shift, and smell the barest hint of him lingering in the air. And for a minute, I just stand there like a complete idiot, trying to catch the breath I'm not even supposed to need.

"I'm _so_ over this," I say, though I doubt I'm convincing anyone with my stupid, trembling voice.

I march back to my bed like I'm on mission, snatching the box and ripping it open. A bangle bracelet is situated inside. Slender and silver-silver, my butt-I'd bet my entire shoe collection this bitch is platinum. It's simple. Sleek. Beautiful. And then I notice some strange inscriptions on the inside of the bracelet.

They look like runes.

I think of the weird writing in Bonnie's witch books and feel myself go up in flames.

"You creepy bastard," I mutter, and then, before I can even think about what I'm doing, I'm leaping out of my own window. Barefoot in pajamas and I'm running through my snowy front yard.

He's opening the door to a car that probably costs like ten million dollars or something and I don't know what even happens. I have no clue what I'm doing until I hear myself scream and see the bracelet flying from my hand through the air. It's aimed for his head.

He catches it of course. Doesn't even need to turn around, just snags it from the sound or maybe window reflection alone. God, I hate that guy. When he turns, he doesn't look half as shocked as I feel.

"Keep your freaky bracelet!" I sound like a Grade A harpy. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I'm not going to wear your witchy magic jewelry!"

His face crumples in confusion then, brows knitting together. "Magic..." he trails off then, realization relaxing his features. "It's not magic, love."

"Stop calling me that! You are not allowed to call me that! Ever!" I say. Or shriek. Shriek is probably closer to it.

"They are Norse runes," he says softly, running his fingers over the inscriptions. "No magic, Caroline."

"You're lying to me."

"No."

I shift on my feet, crossing my arms over my chest. A nice guy would tell me to go inside. A nice guy would offer his coat. Klaus isn't a nice guy, and he isn't to call back to some ancient memory of humanity and all of its inconveniences so he can remember to warm up a girl that can't actually feel the cold.

But when he looks at me, it's like he's looking at the North-freaking-Star. Me. Not Elena or Bonnie or any one of the supermodels I've seen gagging over him at every possible opportunity. Just me.

Klaus glances down at the bracelet and slides his thumb over the inscriptions. I don't care about them. I don't want to know what they mean.

"What do they mean?" I ask.

Damn it.

He scratches the back of his neck and looks around and if he wasn't ancient and stupidly powerful, I'd swear he was blushing. "It's part of an old poem. It means, '_Remember me. I remember you_.'"

"Remember me, I remember you?" I say it like it's a joke. I curl my lip and everything.

I pop a hand on my hip and give off the snotty laugh I perfected in the eighth grade. But those five words keep digging their way into me, under my skin, sinking into my bones. Remember him. Like I could ever forget him. Remember him, because he's leaving.

He's leaving.

And I want that. I want him so far gone that one day I wake up not wondering when he'll appear next. And it's happening. He's giving me what I want.

I feel this weird sense of urgency into me, rushing through my veins like I've been plugged into an outlet. It makes no sense. I'm furious and confused and grateful that it's over, and a million other things, I don't even know all the things. But I feel like I'm going to start twitching or sparking, and then, without any warning at all, I run at him.

I have no idea what I'm planning to do. I collide with him, fists first, punching at his chest. And then, somehow, God, I don't even know how, my fingers uncurl and splay flat on his chest and I'm...I'm crying.

I'm crying on Klaus.

And that stupid, arrogant jerk knows exactly what to do. He pulls me in crossing his arms over my back and making soft noises into my hair and God he smells so good and his hands feel just...no! His hands kill. That's what they do.

"Why didn't you just leave?" I ask him, the words gasped out between sniffs. "Why did you have to- "

I can't even finish it. I can't even speak the words because they are too terrible. And he can't answer me. He pushes me back a little by my shoulders so he can look at me. I feel his hands on my face and his fingers are...God, is he shaking?

Klaus is shaking.

And then I get it. He's probably the most powerful creature on this planet and he's every bit as terrified of me as I am of him.

"I shouldn't have pushed you," I say, because it's true. And I should have said it earlier. Probably weeks ago.

"I shouldn't have been so blind to it."

"Why were you? I did it again and again and you just kept..." I trail off, mesmerized by the feel of his thumbs on my cheeks, his fingers in my hair.

"Because you are my Achilles Heel, Caroline Forbes."

He catches my tears on his thumbs and I glance at his mouth, something low and unspeakable stirring in my middle. God, this can't happen. It can't.

I step back and he lets me, hands falling from my face. I feel his fingers, loose around my wrists. His smile bleeds into a smirk. "I've been a vampire for a thousand years, and this is a first."

"What, having a crush on the girl who dated your beloved hybrid turned arch-enemy?"

His smile turns wide and adoring. "Yes, that. But that's not what I was referring to."

"Then what?"

"You make me want to live, Caroline," he says, and then he tilts his head, a strange faraway look on his face.

I pretend it doesn't send a thousand butterflies to flight in my stomach, and scoff. "I thought the hummingbird did that."

"The hummingbird made me think of being human."

I roll my eyes. "That's the same thing."

Klaus just smiles, his eyes going warm and soft and, God, so damn _lonely_. "Not quite."

I blink and he is already past me and in the car. He doesn't look again before he drives away, and I don't call after him.

It takes me ten minutes to realize the bracelet is back on my wrist.

Twenty minutes after that, I decide I'll let myself keep it.

-*-end-*-


End file.
